


Words That Follow Me

by JamieS1025



Series: The Devil Wears Prada [3]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-12
Updated: 2018-06-12
Packaged: 2019-05-21 13:04:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14915900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JamieS1025/pseuds/JamieS1025





	Words That Follow Me

When Viktor gets home to his penthouse apartment that night, he drops his bags at the door and tosses his house keys onto the entrance table. Makkachin, his beloved poodle, is happily wagging her tail at his feet and he spares her a brief greeting as he pushes through toward the living room. He removes his earrings and tosses them onto the coffee table before sinking into the couch with a sigh. A moment passes before he leans forward to unzip his thigh-high boots.

“Are you trying to give the new assistant a heart attack, _mon cheri_?” A voice asks from the doorway to the bedrooms and Chris exits to grab a cup from the kitchen. He spares Viktor a knowing look.

Their eyes meet but Viktor looks away to pull his boot off. “I’m not sure what you are implying.”

Chris snorts and takes a sip of water from his glass, leaning forward on the counter that overlooks the living room.  “No man wears thigh-high boots without a reason, my friend. Plus, that boy was practically tripping over himself to get you to look at him. He’s cute. If you don’t want to try him, I’ll help you out.”

Viktor pulls off his last boot and throws a glare in Chris’s direction. The blonde merely winks in return.

“Yuuri works for me,” Viktor explains. Chris does not appear convinced.

“Doesn’t mean you can’t have some fun.”

“It’s not like that,” Viktor counters, undoing the braid from his hair to bunch the strands in a messy bun on top of his head. “He’s… different. Smart. He is someone I would have never selected for that position. I mean, did you see his sweater?”

Chris laughs, loud and uncontained. “Oh, beautiful angel, I think he might be more smitten on you then I thought.”

Viktor seems unamused and rises from his seat on the couch. He enters the kitchen to pull a bottle of his favorite single-bottled juice from the fridge. “Why are you even here, Chris?” Viktor asks, exhausted.

A shrug and smile accompany his response of, “Just thought I could visit a friend in need.”

“I’m not in need,” Viktor replies, annoyed. Chris’s smile merely widens at the response. Viktor knows a lost cause when he sees one. “Well, I’m going to take a shower and then I have some paperwork to review. Take Makka for a walk in return for a bed and food?”

Chris nods. “It would be my pleasure.” Makkachin yips from her dog bed in the living room. Viktor supposes if Makkachin approves he cannot disagree. He stops to pet her head and gives her a kiss before he takes off toward his bedroom, stripping out of the dress as soon as he steps through the door.

The material is light in his hands. Viktor holds the dress back up to his body, glancing at his figure in the full-body mirror on his wall. He knows he looks good. People have always told him how flawlessly he can carry any gender norm, but Yuuri’s words echo through his mind. 

_He’s just… pretty. In the general. T-The dress is… nice. Good. Great._

Viktor can practically feel those honey chocolate eyes still on him.

He physically shakes his head to rid the thoughts rattling in his mind and drops the dress into a clothes basket, focusing on the task of showering and not of how Yuuri’s hands would feel on his skin.

 

* * *

 

“Oh my god, I thought I was going to have to put out a police search for you,” Phichit yells when Yuuri walks through their front door, hands full with shopping bags. Phichit grabs a few to assist as he continues his rant, “You go off to some interview and I never hear from you all day and then you rush out the door this morning to return over ten hours later? What happened!?”

Yuuri sighs and toes off his shoes at the door before dropping the remaining bags onto the counter. “I got the job but it’s been a little more demanding than I thought.”

“You think?? Maybe send a text so I know you weren’t murdered?”

Yuuri throws his roommate a look at his dramatics. Phichit merely smiles coly in return. “So? What’s it like?”

“A job,” Yuuri responds, taking a carton of vanilla soy milk from his shopping bag and placing it in the fridge. “It’s a lot of running around and having someone dictate your every move.”

_‘At least you have something nice to look at every day_ ,’ Yuuri’s brain supplies. The thought triggers an immediate blush to rush across his cheeks. Yuuri tucks his head in hopes that Phichit won’t notice.

He does. “Oh no, what’s that look for?”

“Nothing.”

“Right,” Phichit states skeptically, “What’s this place called again?”

With a puzzled look, Yuuri informs Phichit of his current employment only to regret the answer as the younger wipes out his phone. With a few precise taps, Phichit is whistling suggestively. “Oh Yuuri, your boss is a hottie. Is that what the look was for?”

His flush deepens.

Phichit laughs, turning the phone around to show Viktor in a three-piece suit, smiling at the camera. He takes the phone back to swipe left and present another photo. This time Viktor is looking at the camera, bottom lip caught between his teeth, fur coat dangling off his shoulders. Yuuri chokes on his own saliva.

The Thai man chuckles lightly, taking his phone back. The screen illuminates his face as he types away. “Viktor Nikiforov, age 27, Chief and Editor of _Runway_ Magazine. Looks like he did some modeling a while back, which let’s be real, he’s gorgeous. Is he single?”

“Uh, I don’t know,” Yuuri responds truthfully. He had never thought about it.

Phichit hums and taps away. “Says his single, but he has a lot of photos with this blonde guy,” Phichit shows Yuuri the phone.

“That’s Chris. He works with the design team.”

“Okay, well, I think they are friends?” Phichit scrolls through a few more, jumping at one at has caught his eye. “He’s got a poodle, look!”

Yuuri takes the phone this time, looking down at an Instagram post of Viktor and a large brown poodle. Yuuri’s heart melts a little more. Not only was his boss a gorgeous human being, but he was a gorgeous human being that loved dogs. Yuuri might as well purpose now.

Although he has enjoyed looking at the photos of his current employer, Yuuri suddenly feels like he might have invaded his privacy with the searching. He immediately hands the phone back and returns to putting away the groceries. Phichit takes the hint and sets his phone on the counter.

“So, do you like it?”

Yuuri snorts. “It’s definitely not what my crippling student debt paid for, but at least it pays the bills.”

“Yeah, but like, are you going to ask him out?”

Whipping around, a screeched “No” leaves his mouth. Phichit just appears smug.

“Okay but like, let me dress you up.”

“No,” Yuuri states, arms crossing defensively across his chest. “Absolutely not. I’m not changing who I am for a job.”

_‘It’s sort of funny how you think your choice exempts you from the fashion world, when, in fact, you’re wearing a sweater that was selected for you by the people in this room,’_ Viktor’s words echo in his head.

Phichit whines, “It’s not changing who you are. It’s just making a nicer looking version of you. That ass should be shown off, Yuuri. It’s a disservice to the world not too.”

Yuuri sighs, worn-out. “Phichit, not now, please. I just want to go to bed.”

His friend immediately straightens. “Of course,” he murmurs, tilting his head to catch Yuuri’s eyes. “Are you okay?”

Yuuri nods, rubbing at his tired eyes. “I just need to sleep. I’ll be fine, okay? Thank you, for worrying about me.”

Phichit throws his best friend a smile. “I always worry about you. Get some rest and do not think this conversation is over,” Phichit informs and gathers his phone to stalk off to his room. “Night Yuuri!”

“Night Phichit,” Yuuri murmurs. He turns off the kitchen light and heads to his own room, determined not to think about work or Viktor for the rest of the night. He fails, falling asleep to familiar cerulean eyes.

 

* * *

 

Over the next week, Yuuri learns several new facts about his boss.

The first is during this morning Starbucks coffee run. After noticing Viktor would only lightly sip at his latte’s and leave them half-full most of the time, Yuuri decided to confront his boss. Yuuri waits for the end of the morning design meeting before entering the office and approaching Viktor’s desk. His boss looks surprised at the sudden entrance.

“Why don’t you drink them?” Yuuri asks, motioning the half-full cup still sitting on Viktor’s desk.

Confused, Viktor looks between the cup and him. “Oh, it tastes weird. It’s not what I usually order.”

Yuuri’s eyes narrow. “What do you usually order?”

“Chris usually insists on the non-fat milk and sugar-free syrup. Fewer calories. I usually go for more of a coconut milk latte with two pumps of vanilla and two pumps of cinnamon,” Viktor explains, signing one of the documents waiting on his desk. His hair falls into his vision and he is forced to flip it over his shoulder.

Yuuri takes the document as Viktor hands it over to him. “Why have you never told me? I’ve been ordering the wrong drink all week.”

Viktor shrugs, placing his elbows on his desk and cradling his face in his open palms. The smile he gives is almost heart-shaped. “I don’t know. The last assistant just kept messing it up so I learned to just deal with it.”

As his heart hammers in his chest, Yuuri fights the urge to reach out and brush a thumb along the man’s high cheekbone. He clears his throat lightly, taking a step back. “You shouldn’t have to settle for less, Viktor,” Yuuri states, suddenly brave. “You deserve more than that.”

The silver-haired man’s eyes widen considerably at the comment, but Yuuri leaves no room for a response as he states, “I’m going for the Starbucks run now,” and leaves the office. Viktor can only watch him go.

The entire situation leads to the next fact Yuuri learns, which is, Viktor is a very stern leader but is an incredibly kind man. He demands respectable work from his employees but he loves to reward hard work. When the purchasing department remains in their budget for the month, he rewards the entire team with a catered lunch. When Emil from accounting had a family emergency, Viktor granted him full-paid time off without a second thought. He even left several little gifts on both assistant’s desk, which Yuuri thinks nothing of until a thousand-dollar jacket is sitting on his desk with a note signed _Love, V._

When Yuuri confronts him about the expensive gift, Viktor merely waves him off.

“I lead a fashion magazine, Yuuri. Half of these items are just given to the company. Keep it, the dark blue will look good on you.”

Yuuri protests. The item is just too expensive. He cannot possibly accept such an item.

With that same heart-shaped smile, Viktor’s eyes meet Yuuri’s. “You shouldn’t have to settle for less. You deserve much more than that,” he echo’s Yuuri’s same words.

The blush as returned to Yuuri’s cheeks. “That’s different.”

“How so?” Viktor asks, amused.

Yuuri doesn’t have an answer for him.

The third fact happens to be that although Viktor loves the thought of his beautiful, long silver hair, he generally hates the idea of caring for it. Multiple times Yuuri has walked into the office for something, only to watch Viktor wrestle the long strands into a messy bun, blowing the fallen strands from his face in a huff.

He can’t help but laugh and Viktor throws him an exasperated look.

“Stop being dramatic,” Yuuri hears himself say, setting a file down on the desk. “Do you want me to braid it for you?”

“Oh god, please,” Viktor practically whines. He isn’t sure when everything turned so casual between them, but he doesn’t fight it. “It’s driving me crazy.”

“I can tell,” Yuuri murmurs. He approaches the back of Viktor’s chair, gently running his hands through the long strands. Viktor melts at the touch. “Don’t blame me if this comes out weird. I haven’t done it in awhile.”

Yuuri tries to remember the steps he used to perform on his sister's hair back when she thought long hair was unique. He separates the strands, creating a braid along the back side of Viktor’s neck, stealing some bobby pins from Viktor’s secret stash. He folds the end of the braid back into the rest of the hair crown and pins it into place.

“There! Beautiful. Although I used to be better at this,” Yuuri comments, tucking a few loose strands away.

Viktor holds up his phone, his own reflection bright on the screen. “Oh wow, it’s so pretty!”

Yuuri can see himself smile in the camera reflection. “I’m glad you like it.”

“We need to take a photo!” Viktor announces, glancing back with a grand smile. “Won’t you take one with me? Come here.”

Viktor takes Yuuri’s hand and tugs him down so they are level, faces close together. Although the position is uncomfortable leaning half over the back of Viktor’s chair, Yuuri does not comment. Years of selfie practice with Phichit have him tilting his head toward Viktor’s, one hand resting on his bicep while the other wraps around his shoulders to throw out a peace sign. Viktor is smiling his beautiful heart-shaped smile as he snaps a few memories.

Only as he scrolls through the photos, showing Yuuri which one he thinks is the best, does the entire situation hit Viktor. Yuuri learns the forth and finally fact that day.

Viktor has the cutest little blush across the tip of his nose.


End file.
